Reader. Writer. Romantic.

Posts tagged ‘Hannibal’

I could have never imagined that killing would have felt so good. I could never have imagined how easy it had been. But he had it coming. He deserved it for everything he had done. My only wish was that he hadn’t died so easily. I had so much more to give him. I wanted to take care of him the same way he had taken care of me and my sister.

The police had come. They had asked their questions. And they had nothing vaguely incriminating against me. But yet they held me. My lawyers were useless. All they could think about was how to get me off. There was no conviction yet, but my lawyers were already preparing an insanity plea for me. I couldn’t help but think that by setting me up to be evaluated by a psychiatrist, it would make me look even guiltier.

“Alexandria, this is Dr. Hannibal Lecter, a renowned psychiatrist in his field,” introduced one of my lawyers, “”Dr. Lecter, this is Alexandria Verger.”

I blinked a couple times and took in my surroundings in silence.

Dr. Lecter extended his hand to me, “It’s a pleasure Miss Verger.”

I grasped it firmly, but still said nothing, opting to stare at the ground instead.

“Well we’ll leave you to it,” said another lawyer, “We’ll be waiting in the sitting room for you Alexandria.”

I gave him an annoyed look and the three of them filed out in silence.

“Please, have a seat,” offered Dr. Lecter.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

Dr. Lecter followed the lawyers to the door, closing the door before seating himself across from me.

“You’re Margot’s therapist aren’t you?” I started timidly.

“And you’re Margot’s sister, aren’t you?” returned Dr. Lecter.

I nodded and studied his face.

Dr. Lecter nodded, “Did Margot tell you about me?”

I shook my head, “Not really. She mentioned you in passing, but didn’t delve into details.”

Dr. Lecter continued to study me, waiting for me to say something that he could respond or reflect back at me.

“Do you know why I’m here Dr. Lecter?” I asked quietly.

“Why don’t you tell me?” asked Dr. Lecter amused.

“My lawyers think I’m guilty of my brother’s murder and are trying to get me off on an insanity plea. However, there is nothing the police can charge me with, does that not seem odd to you?” I answered.

“Not at all, quite the contrary actually. As you have met him, you can attest to how utterly unlikable he is. In fact, you and I are not the only ones who disliked him; he had many enemies, but liked to hide behind his Italian henchmen and money and I mean, he could only hide for so long,” I stated stiffly.

“Now that he’s dead, are you and Margot free?” asked Dr. Lecter.

I shrugged, “I wouldn’t call it freedom as father has done everything to restrict the Verger fortune from falling into Margot or my hands. We don’t get a legacy.”

“Unless you create one,” said Dr. Lecter.

“Margot can’t. After what Mason did to her…there’s no way she’ll ever be able to have children,” I said shaking my head.

“What about you?” asked Dr. Lecter.

“I was never allowed to leave the house. I could never have met anyone…even now. I don’t have the skills to…entice anyone,” I said hesitantly.

“But since you’ve been out, have you met someone you like?” asked Dr. Lecter.

I dropped my gaze, “Yes…but I don’t think it’ll work out…I mean who he is isn’t compatible with who I am.”

“How do you know if you haven’t tried?” pressed Dr. Lecter.

“Because I understand societal conventions even if I’ve never been a part of them…this is one relationship that would be greatly frowned upon,” I sighed.

I sighed again before starting, “He and I have a professional relationship. No it isn’t one of those idiot lawyers you’ve met who are waiting outside, but we’ve interacted briefly in the past. He ran errands for Mason and was one of the few people I had any sort of interaction with. He was a decent person, was always polite, soft spoken and willing to do anything I asked. After I got out he…offered to teach me things, took me in and there I…feel that it’s wrong to be falling in love with him.”

Dr. Lecter smiled encouragingly for me to continue.

“The more I talk to him the more I feel that I’m in love with him. Some nights I can hardly sleep without getting a panic attack thinking about him. It’s the little things that trigger a skip in my heart beat and a rush of adrenaline. Well that and estrogen as my voice usually shoots up three octaves or so when I’m talking to him,” I continued, “It’s like I can’t even function like a normal human being.”

“You bring up a good point with that last there, but let’s get back to the panic attacks. Tell me more about what those are like?” asked Dr. Lecter.

I buried my face in my hands, “Everything I see is somehow connected back to him.”

“Give me an example,” requested Dr. Lecter.

“Okay, um, so he drives a green Toyota Prius, so every time I see one I think it’s him and it makes me do a double take. Not just green Toyotas though. Green cars more generally that are the same shape, other Toyota Priuses…small things like that. Other green cars though not of the same shape or model or anything make me smile because they make me think of him,” I explained.

“Strange thing love, isn’t it?” mused Dr. Lecter, “What kind of things did he talk to you about before Mason’s death?”

“Ordinary things. Like how Mason was treating me, if I was getting enough to eat and yeah, stuff like that,” I answered.

I furrowed my brow, “I don’t recall, but I was too enamored with him to remember much. Gosh, I’m still enamored with him.”

“Describe a typical fantasy,” said Dr. Lecter.

I reddened and looked away again, twisting my hair as I used to do as a little girl when Mason used to hurt me.

“I’m sorry…I don’t think I can…” I said as steadily as I could.

“I know that you remember one,” said Dr. Lecter sharply.

“What I meant was…I can’t repeat what I have thought in my head. It’s…too much,” I blushed.

“Really? There must be a tame one in there somewhere,” smiled Dr. Lecter.

He appeared to be enjoying himself, pushing me to the edges of my comfort zone.

I frowned again, trying to think of my first fantasy, sure that it would the most decent and tame fantasy I had of him, “I remember thinking how good he smelled and one of my first fantasies was cuddling. Just cuddling under the stars with him and taking in his wonderful scent.”

“And now tell me the most risqué,” said Dr. Lecter.

I groaned, “I don’t think so Dr. Lecter.”

“Miss Verger, I think it would be a good exercise,” said Dr. Lecter.

“Fine…the most…,” I started, “I think it would be dinner and…um, going to his house and…”

“Oh,” said Dr. Lecter disappointed, “I expected more. From what Margot told me, you have a powerful imagination.”

Dr. Lecter shook his head, “You are far bolder than you’d like to reveal and far more clever and imaginative than Margot described you as, but years with Mason have stifled what you feel is your self-worth.”

I stared at the ground, I hated admitting that I was wrong.

Dr. Lecter leaned in, “. I have a friend who consults me and works in the Behavioural Science Unit. I read the report and saw Mason’s body. It was well done. An art form in and of itself. It was well thought out and planned.”

“Perhaps it was a serenade,” I said simply.

“To whom?” asked Dr. Lecter curiously.

“To the Chesapeake Ripper,” I answered standing.

At that moment my lawyers returned and I allowed them to escort me out.

“We’ll be in touch, Dr. Lecter, for Alexandria’s full evaluation,” stated a lawyer.

“Will it be likely that I will have another session with Miss Verger?” asked Dr. Lecter.

“No,” answered another, “Thank you for your expertise doctor and have a good evening.”

Dr. Lecter watched from his window as I got into the car. Once fastened in, I gave him a smile as I disappeared down the road.

Prompt: Write or draw something based around a favorite movie or TV show

The scent of rotting carcasses filled the air as I stood amidst them. It was glorious, beautiful, an expression of my unrecognized talent. In life they were nothing. They were only common folk, but in death I elevated them to art. I carefully made sure that each actor and actress was in his or her place, taking care not to leave any evidence behind.

Art was not merely a visual experience, not art was a visceral response, an auditory response, a full sensory response. I would make it so. Looking at the bodies entertwined, becoming one as the flowers bloomed around them was overwhelming. After months of cultivation, my garden was almost done. All it needed were some guests, music and food. I would take care of all that soon.

The smell of rotting carcasses was a bit off putting, but it was the price I had to pay for such genius. I looked around and wondered if he would be among the police to see and hear my serenade to him. I loved him, but he didn’t know me. I wasn’t important. Expendable even. But that didn’t matter. Not anymore. I just wanted him to know. To know this was all for him.

I went inside the truck and brought out prosciutto roses made from human leg cured for eight months, heart tartar, flamingo tongue, foie gras among other delicacies. I carefully arranged them on the table I had set in on the carcass cobblestone I had created. I put some flowers in a vase, poured some wine.

I hoped the FBI agents would show up. They would be a lovely addition to my art piece. The final touch to this masterpiece. They were the guests of honour.

From my hiding place I watched them come. Come to see their colleagues dead and set into my masterpiece. A soft breeze floated through and the scent of the garden and carcasses mingled and I saw him lean in to inspect the food. I saw a small smile creep onto his face and it was satisfaction enough. I carefully snuck away. Until I could no longer hear the music and then I ran. I ran without stopping. Almost forgetting to breathe. I just kept going. The only thing on my mind was to get home. To destroy all the evidence there.

They would never find me, but I had to make sure. I would burn it all. Burn everything down.

And disappear.

I knew it was going to be hard. But this was my final masterpiece, it had to be overwhelming.

All the work I had put into it, it had drained me. All I could think about was laying down somewhere to sleep. Just to close my eyes and drift away.

But no. Not before my work was done. I still had lots to do. There was no time to be thinking about sleeping.

But I was so tired. It was so easy just to forget all my obligations. To forget all the demands I had on me. It was so easy to say good bye as there was no one left.

I wanted him to know what I had done for him. I couldn’t destroy everything yet. The fire would bring me too much attention. I had to see him first. To let him know. And then say good bye.

I smiled, “Not if you value your secret. I know. I’ve seen you work. And with great finesse. I admire you. It was my serenade. My good bye.”

He smiled and thanked me, not quite understanding the crazy person before him.

“I’m sure you’ve had fans. Imitators, people so willing to claim credit to your work,” I said, “I didn’t want to do that. It would have been an insult to your talent. I hope you enjoyed a taste of my work, but I’m going to sleep now and I don’t think I shall ever wake.”

“Would you like some help?” he offered.

I crinkled my nose, “Would I be imposing?”

He shook his head, “Let us create one final masterpiece. Your greatest masterpiece.”

They found me just the way he left me. On the kitchen table carved up like a roast. The table was set for two. Candles and roses adorned the charred table and the sweet scent of lilacs filled the room. He had come back after to set it just the way I had asked. A soft melody greeted the crime scene processing team. He was with them and did so well to keep that smile off his face, but this was his masterpiece too.

Our masterpiece.

Something we were both proud to call our own. I would never forget him. And I know that he would never forget me.